The roar of the waves
Tuesday
Surprisingly, I survive my hike along the beach with Diesel and Charlie. It turns out Charlie was right. Summer rain blasting in my face and hammering through the seams of my borrowed cagoule, and a gale sticking my soaking wet dress to my legs prove to be the ideal antidote to finding out my past isn’t quite as I thought. By the time I’ve had a long hot soak in the tub with the claws, the numb pain in my chest has almost gone. A late dash to the Surf Shack for gin slings and a debrief with Plum and Nell does the rest. When Nell says that gin is a depressant I agree to stop after four. Then on Sunday my quadruple chocolate mousse cake with strawberries goes down a storm at Laura’s Chocolate Boxevening. Plus, I score another three cupids from the weekend and my total is getting bigger and bigger. Yay to the lingering magic of musical chairs! And two days later as I’m helping in Plum’s gallery and I’m still getting Facebook messages of congratulations for my chocolate marquise I’m racking my brains for any way to make this more permanent.
‘So if you’re happy to price up the new sea glass stock, it’s all here.’ Plum points to a stack of open boxes on the desk at the end of the gallery where the craft is displayed.
I wander over, pull back the tissue paper and take out a fine silver neck chain with green translucent glass and silver hearts. ‘These are so pretty, they’re like wearing a piece of the sea.’ I let out a murmur of appreciation. ‘And there are key rings with shells and hanging ornaments too.’ I already know I’m going to have to buy one.
I’m into the routine of afternoon shifts at the gallery now. So long as the sun’s out, I eat my croissant lunch on my way over from the office. Once I’ve unpacked the latest arrivals, I usually go on to sort out the smaller prints and the cards. As summer moves on and there are more visitors browsing, I usually end up serving the customers who come in for the less expensive things while Plum sorts out the arty enquiries.
Plum’s keeping half an eye on the people in front of her pictures as she hitches up her dungarees. ‘You know Charlie’s upstairs? I sent him to check out my bigger pictures with a view to using some in the entrances of some swanky new flats they’re building down near Penzance.’
‘Nice work, girl.’ I give her a playful punch, then a rueful smile. ‘Whatever happened to Bay Holdings horrors?’ Although what the hell Charlie is up to with Joe might yet answer that question. We still haven’t cleared up exactly what’s going on there.
As for Plum’s pictures, they come in all sizes from mini to gigantic with price tags to match. Like a lot of artists, she has a favourite theme, and hers is the sea. Sometimes she’s painting intricate watercolour details on tiny parchment squares, others she’s splashing paint around like Jackson Pollock on canvases so tall she has to work off a ladder. But whatever the scale of her pictures she has this uncanny ability to capture the depth and power of the sea in all its moods. It’s as if after living by the coast her whole life, the ocean has become part of her being. When I stand back and study her pictures hanging on the high white gallery walls, they’re so extraordinary it’s hard to believe that they’ve been made by the same small girl I built sand castles with on those long hot summer afternoons all those years ago. The swirl of the undertow and the crash of the waves on the canvas feel as real as if you were there in the water.
Plum laughs. ‘Charlie hasn’t bought yet. But he’s talking about commissioning some pictures for Seaspray Cottage, too.’
‘Better and better. So long as he comes through.’ That’s the trouble with Charlie. The second you begin to trust him he does something to make you doubt him again.
She wrinkles her nose. ‘We’ll have to wait and see. Anyway, more good news is that Nell’s out and about doing an audit, so she might pop in too.’
I rub my fingers over a piece of translucent green glass on a key ring. ‘Has anyone made any more progress with Operation Siren?’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ Plum waves in the direction of the gallery door, then grins back at me. ‘We could have an unscheduled opportunity here though. Nell’s just arriving, and I can hear the sound of Charlie’s feet on the stairs.’
Nell makes her way along the gallery shuffling in her flip flops and swipes an invisible slick of sweat off her forehead as she arrives at the desk. ‘Jeez, it’s too damned hot for VAT today. I was sweating so much I had to nip home to change.’ Her vest is loose over her checked shorts and she’s flapping the shoulder straps to let the air in. Then she pulls out a handful of papers from her rucksack and puts them on the desk.
Plum picks one up. ‘With the latest rush of visitors we’ve had a run on your Singles’ Club flyers. It’s good you’ve brought more.’ She turns and whispers into Nell’s ear. ‘Charlie’s on his way down from upstairs.’
Nell’s nod shows she understands Operation Siren’s back on as she tucks the papers into a neat pile. ‘These are new ones, highlighting the summer activities. It’s always good to have new people in the mix, even if they’re just passing through.’
We’re all facing the open staircase and as Charlie’s legs come into view beyond the open stair rail, I pretend to examine some sea glass. As I catch a flash of Charlie’s bare feet in deck shoes and hard thighs in tight denim I fan myself with a flyer.
Charlie ambles towards us, hands in the pockets of his low-slung jeans. ‘So what are you mermaids plotting today?’ He squints down at the pile of singles’ flyers. ‘If you do boat trips I must book us in for one of those.’
Nell pushes a flyer into Charlie’s hand. ‘The next one’s on Sunday afternoon, we call it Whale Watching. Being totally upfront it’s a couple of hours on Jed Smith’s cruiser with a tasty pork sandwich and a lot more wine than wildlife. My number’s here if you’ve got any queries.’
Charlie folds up the paper and slides it into his back pocket. ‘I take it you’ll be going?’
‘Me?’ Nell’s puzzled expression doesn’t come through in her voice. ‘Yes, I’m on every boat trip.’
Charlie’s eyes light up. ‘Great. In that case, I’ll take two tickets.’
If Nell’s startled by his decisiveness she hides it well. ‘If it’s warm we swim off the boat, so bring your speedos – unless you prefer skinny dipping, in which case come as you are.’
Charlie laughs. ‘Better and better. I’ll bring a towel then.’
I’m beaming at Plum, when suddenly it hits me. He asked for two places, knowing Nell was already going. I have to jump in here to see what’s going on. ‘Dakota’s been before, hasn’t she, Nell? She’ll keep you right, Charlie.’
Charlie’s scratching his head. ‘Dakota? Isn’t she partying in Ibiza next weekend?’
And I’m back to puzzled. ‘You asked for two tickets. If it’s not Dakota, who’s your plus one?’
That makes him smile. ‘It’s more A. N. Other than a partner. I’m hoping George will come.’
‘George?’ My voice is high, because I’m so confused. ‘Where the hell doeshefit in?’
